


lend a friendly hand

by naughtyskeletonpuns (badskeletonpuns)



Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Feelings, M/M, Messy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 06:26:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18360476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskeletonpuns/pseuds/naughtyskeletonpuns
Summary: Sammy likes being marked up and Ben likes marking people up, and they both really, really like each other. Things proceed in a predictable manner from there.





	lend a friendly hand

**Author's Note:**

> everyone PLEASE go look at domirine's art for this, it is BEAUTIFUL! [Ben, being unfairly sexy.](http://domirine.tumblr.com/post/183904133926)

Sammy’s pretty damn sure he’s not the kind of person who stands in front of a mirror and tells himself he’s beautiful or handsome or anything like that. Positive self-talk is cool and great, but he’s barely gotten past the ‘Hey, turns out I’m not a complete piece of garbage who should leave town the moment I could inconvenience the people around me,’ so… He feels like he can cut himself some slack. 

Despite the tangled mess that is his self-esteem, Sammy stands in front of Ben’s bedroom mirror. Naked. That’s probably an important detail. 

Ben’s sheets are rumpled and, if Sammy is honest, kind of dirty. One of them’s gotta do laundry sooner rather than later. But that's not why he's gotten out of bed right now.

Sammy runs a hand down his chest, brushing over marks so fresh that some of them still sting. He's a canvas of flushed pink and red, and he can honestly say he's never enjoyed looking at himself quite this much. He thumbs at a particularly deep mark on his hip bone, and a shiver trips off his fingers and rolls down his thigh and calf. 

He can’t help but let out a pleased hum at the feeling, and presses into the bruise a little harder. 

It’s a mirror of Ben’s hands from earlier that morning, where they’d pinned Sammy’s hips to the bed while Ben fucking  _ made eye contact _ with Sammy with Sammy’s dick in his mouth. Sammy had almost come on the spot.

Every time he’d bucked his hips, Ben had been there holding him. Ben’s hands were hot and solid and heavy, his thumbs digging into Sammy’s skin.

Sammy’s already heating up again at the thought of it, even though he’s far from the college student he was the last time he could get hard again so quickly. 

He turns, craning his neck to try and get a better look at his back in the mirror. Angry red lines chase each other along his shoulder blades, and Sammy smirks just a little. Another mark from Ben, another moment Sammy can picture in high definition and surround sound. 

These scrapes were from after the blowjob, after Ben had pulled off with a wet pop just before Sammy could crash over that edge. Sammy hadn’t even been upset, not when Ben was already draped over Sammy’s chest and kissing him hard and deep. 

Ben had made out like he wanted to be touching Sammy everywhere at once. Like he needed to know the taste of every inch of skin, needed to dig his teeth into muscle and scrape his nails along skin. He’d kissed like he couldn’t ever stop. Even when Sammy had rolled the two of them over so Ben was underneath him, so he could slide one of his thighs up between Ben’s, Ben hadn’t been able to stop moving. If anything, he had gotten even more restless.

He’d grabbed at Sammy’s shoulders as he rutted against Sammy’s leg, panting loudly enough that it was closer to moaning than anything else. It hadn’t taken much for either of them then, Sammy spilling over Ben’s waist and side with just the sting of Ben’s nails and the way his voice broke as he came moments before Sammy.

“You okay?” 

Sammy is dragged back to the present by Ben’s voice. He glances away from the mirror to look at Ben carrying two glasses of water and, Sammy would guess, the weight of all his anxieties. 

“I wasn’t, like, too much, right?” Ben shifts back and forth on his feet, chewing on his lower lip. He’s at least taken the time to put on boxers before heading out into the hallway, but they’re riding low enough to void any intended modesty. “I… didn't mean to, uh. That.”

It would be so easy for Sammy to make a joke out of this; he could toss off a one-liner about getting scratched up by a garbage bear, guaranteed to distract Ben from his current train of thought. He doesn’t, though. 

“No, Ben.” Sammy rubs at a bruise on his neck, and it thrums under his fingertips. “Not too much at all.” 

Ben doesn’t look convinced, still all twitchy and fidgeting. “I haven’t—” he starts, and shakes his head. “I mean, you know. Emily and I never really…” He shrugs and glances down to one side. There’s a flush riding high on his cheeks. “Not like this.” 

And, well, Sammy can only be so nice. “You meant you never hooked up like teenagers grinding in the back of a car after prom night? For  _ shame _ , Benny.” 

Every time Sammy thinks Ben couldn’t possible blush any redder, it turns out he’s mistaken. 

“Shut up,” Ben sputters.

Sammy’s never been one for cliches, but he can’t resist this one. “Make me.” He brings a hand up to his throat and draws his fingers over the hickeys there, keeping his eyes locked on Ben’s. 

Ben lets out a breath, as abrupt as if he’s been punched in the stomach. “ _ Fuck _ , Sammy.” He sets the glasses of water down on the floor. There’s a second where Sammy wonders if someone should be a responsible adult and put them somewhere less likely to get kicked over, but then Ben is jumping into his arms. He sends Sammy staggering back into the nearest wall, and Sammy isn’t thinking of anything but this. 

‘This’ being Ben’s weight pushing against him; Ben’s thighs bracketing his hips; Ben’s  _ fucking mouth _ so hot and slick and nipping at Sammy’s lower lip. 

“You can’t just say things like that,” Ben hisses. He’s so close to Sammy, close enough that Sammy can smell toothpaste fresh on his breath. 

“I don’t know, I think if it gets me a reaction like this, I’m going to say things like that all the time.” 

Ben bites down on Sammy’s lip, hard enough that Sammy’s head spins a little. “Fuck you,” he gets out. 

“I’m trying, believe me.” Sammy’s voice is breathier than he’d like it to be, but he thinks he can’t be blamed for that. His lip must’ve split, because blood is rolling down his chin. It’s hot against his skin, and when he licks his lips it tastes like sea salt and metal. 

Ben thumps his head against Sammy’s collarbone. His hands are fisted on Sammy’s shoulders, white-knuckled and holding tight enough to layer fresh bruises. He lets his feet drop to the floor so Sammy’s not supporting the both of them—probably a good idea; Sammy is getting less and less certain his knees can take  _ his _ weight when he’s so distracted. Even standing on his own, Ben is heavy, and he’s undeniably hard where he and Sammy are pressed together. 

“Can I—” Ben’s voice cracks and he shakes his head and purses his lips together. “I mean, can we—fuck, uh—” Sammy grins, and Ben pokes his chest. “I swear to God, if you say ‘I don’t know,  _ can _ we?’ I’m leaving.” 

“Gonna leave your own apartment?” 

“Don’t fuckin’ tempt me!” In direct opposition to his threat, he reaches up to fist his hands in Sammy’s hair and drag Sammy down low enough for him to kiss. It stings and Sammy moans, unable to stop himself. 

Ben breaks away again. His pupils are blown and his face is flushed; he already looks overcome and it takes Sammy’s breath away. “D’you wanna fuck me?” he blurts out, and for a solid ten seconds, Sammy’s not sure if he dreamed up the question. 

“Could you repeat that?” Even to himself, his voice sounds like he’s talking in another room. It takes Ben pinching his side for Sammy to come back to himself. When he looks back down at Ben, Ben looks a hell of a lot more worried than he did a few seconds ago, and Sammy curses himself for ruining the mood. 

“You okay, buddy?” The way Ben touches Sammy’s face is so gentle it almost hurts. “I didn’t think before I talked, I’m sor—”

Sammy cuts Ben off with a shake of his head. “Ben. Benny, it’s fine. It’s okay. You just startled me, is all.” 

Ben’s forehead is still creased with worry. He rubs his thumb over the arch of Sammy’s cheekbone. Sammy barely resists the urge to lean into the touch, but does give in to his desire to turn his head and kiss the pad of Ben’s thumb, which is equally sappy, if not more so. 

But it makes Ben blush even deeper and puts a smile back on his face, so Sammy can handle a little sappiness. 

“Seriously though, are you good? Do you want to take a breather?” 

“Ben,” Sammy explains, as solemnly as he can. “I did not freak out because I don’t want this. Quite the opposite. I wanted it so much that when you asked, I thought I’d possibly died right here and now, and I was going to be the weird naked ghost in this apartment complex forever.”

“Apparition,” they say in unison, Sammy having guessed that Ben was about to correct him. Ben narrows his eyes at Sammy, and Sammy just shrugs and smirks a little. 

“Am I psychic? Or are you just predictable? Or,” Sammy does a little jazz-hand gesture, precisely because he knows it will drive Ben up the wall, “did a  _ ghost _ tell me?” 

“Predict this,” Ben snaps, predictably. 

What is not predictable is the way he steps away from Sammy, sheds his boxers, and throws himself onto the bed. He’s only lying down for a second before he props himself up on one elbow and rummages in a bedside drawer. 

Those are absolutely condoms and lube in Ben’s hands, and Sammy is moving forward before he knows it. 

Because the universe hates him and him specifically, Sammy trips over the glasses of water on the floor. He catches himself, just barely, but the water is a lost cause. “Should I—” he starts, but Ben is already shaking his head. 

“Fuck it, it’ll dry. Get over here.” Ben has dropped the condoms onto the sheets and uncapped the lube, so Sammy forgives himself for immediately abandoning the water in favor of settling at the foot of Ben’s bed. 

Ben has the gall to fucking  _ wink _ at Sammy as he drizzles lube over his fingers. 

“Show-off,” Sammy mutters. 

Ben doesn’t say anything in response, but he doesn’t need to. He just scoots up to brace his back against his headboard and lets his legs fall open, and Sammy’s just as stunned as he would have been if Ben had said the wittiest quip in the world. Ben’s still hard, cock flushed and curved up to rest against his thigh. He’s all pink and pretty and once again, Sammy moves without thinking, only stopping when Ben takes himself in hand and shakes his head while he slicks himself up in careful, deliberate strokes. 

“Watch and learn, big guy,” Ben murmurs.

Sammy’s about to protest that out of the two of them, he is  _ not _ the one who needs to learn anything, but he’s immediately distracting by Ben.

Ben, who steadies himself with the non-lubed hand on one thigh and lets go of his penis to rub down his perineum and around his hole. He’s panting a little, quick breaths as he works one finger into his ass. 

Then he starts talking, because this is Ben, and Sammy’s pretty sure Ben couldn’t  _ stop _ talking to save his life. 

And,  _ fuck _ , the things Ben says. 

A mixture of swears and Sammy’s name, all said with the same hushed reverence, interspersed with declarations of how much Ben wishes it was Sammy in him right now as he works up to another finger. 

Sammy isn’t sure if he hates Ben for not letting him touch or loves Ben for letting him watch. 

Because Ben is goddamn beautiful like this, fucking himself on his own fingers, every inch of him taut with pleasure so overwhelming it verges on pain. His hair is tangled and sweaty and sticking up in weird places; his face is flushed blotchy pink and red. Sammy has never wanted to kiss anyone more than he wants to kiss Ben right now. 

Ben slips a third finger into himself, eyes squeezed shut as he  _ keens _ with the motion, high and desperate. His cock twitches where it’s dripping on him,  _ has _ been dripping on him since he started using two fingers. 

“Fuck, Ben,” Sammy breathes. He’s caught between the desire to tell Ben it’s not a race, that Sammy’s not going to change his mind and Ben can take it slow, and the equally strong desire to get that lube on his own fingers and help open Ben up. 

Ben makes the choice for him, drawing his fingers out of himself with visible reluctance. He keeps rocking back on his hand as he’s removing it, even though the motion does nothing to help him get his hand out of the way. 

“Need a hand?” Sammy offers, because what is he for if not to offer unhelpful jokes at inopportune times? 

“I’d prefer a dick,” Ben shoots back with a sharp grin, far too eloquent for someone who was moaning and barely able to get words out moments ago. He wipes his hand on the sheet and picks up a condom packet to throw at Sammy, who definitely doesn’t get hit in the chest with it, and definitely does catch it gracefully. 

While Sammy unwraps the condom and slides it on, Ben wastes no time in returning to jacking himself off. He starts making those damn moans again, and it’s enough to make Sammy’s hands shake while he preps himself with more lube. 

He shuffles closer to Ben, positioning himself between Ben’s thighs. “You ready?” 

Ben just nods, mouth open and eyes locked on Sammy’s.

When Sammy pushes in, achingly slow, Ben squeezes his eyes shut and throws his head back. There’s no way Sammy’s gonna last very long, but from the looks of it, neither will Ben. He’s hot and tight around Sammy, rolling his hips to get Sammy as deep as he can. 

Sammy can hardly think, can hardly breathe, can’t do anything but be here in this moment. This is more than he ever thought he'd get, and the joy of it spurs him to lean down and kiss Ben again. 

Ben grabs Sammy’s shoulders to keep him close and kisses back sloppily. His fingernails dig into Sammy’s skin, sparks of pain blended into pleasure. They break apart and Sammy leans back to grasp Ben’s upper thighs, get a little bit more leverage. 

He lifts Ben’s hips as much as he can and thrusts in at the new angle, knowing he’s got it right when Ben whines and drags his nails down Sammy’s arms. 

“Fuck, Sammy! Sammy—I’m gonna, I’m—”

Sammy releases Ben’s hips with one hand and wraps it around Ben’s cock, so that every time Ben moves he’s struck with sensation from all sides. 

Ben shouts and comes all over himself. Sammy fucks him through the aftershocks, till Ben can’t say a word. He can barely keep making those desperate whines. He clenches down around Sammy as his cock gives one last spurt of cum, and Sammy’s coming along with him. 

They’re still for a long moment, surrounded by the scent of sex and salt and each other. 

Sammy lets out a long breath, rolling over to lie on his back next to Ben. He takes off the condom and drops it off the side of the bed into a garbage can. As he pulls out, Ben makes the most heartbreakingly blissed-out little sound.

“We should get cleaned up,” Sammy suggests, more because he feels like someone should say it than because he actually believes it. Also because if he listens to Ben make more sounds like that, his body is going to valiantly try to get hard again and he does not care how hot Ben is, he cannot do that again so soon. No matter how much his dick insists that he absolutely can and should. 

Ben shakes his head and rolls over, tucking himself up against Sammy’s side. “Nope. Can’t get up.”

“Ben!” Sammy protests. “You’re covered in… fluids.” 

“You know, you just had your dick in me. I feel like you’re allowed to say the word ‘cum.’” Ben’s voice is muffled where he’s shoved his face into Sammy’s chest, but Sammy gets the gist of it. 

He pinches Ben’s ass in revenge and Ben shrieks, sitting up and shoving Sammy towards the edge of the bed. “You dick!” 

“Oh, look, you’re up,” Sammy says, with all the innocence he can muster. 

Ben tries to glare at him, but the corners of his eyes are crinkled with glee. “You’re still a dick,” he declares. “But...” He glances down at his chest and stomach, which are still smeared and messy. “Yeah, I’m gonna go get in the shower.” He swings his legs off the side of the bed and stands before looking back at Sammy with a smile. “You’re welcome to join me.” 

And who is Sammy to turn down an invitation like that?

**Author's Note:**

> let me know if you liked it! as ever, thanks to the samben squad for sailing this ship with me and giving me so much inspiration. also HUGE thanks to teyla for the beta, and to domi for the fuckin' amazing art.


End file.
